


everything is luminous but not clear

by camphollstein



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 16:51:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7061188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camphollstein/pseuds/camphollstein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A hum of a laugh comes out of her. “It’s a fact of life, LaF. I’ve tried to change it, such as you’ve tried to fool gravity. I love her.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	everything is luminous but not clear

**Author's Note:**

> i know this isn't half as fluffy as they usually are but bear w me please

It rains all day downtown, after autumn.

Unending, unrelenting water pours quickly, slowly, or however it wants. It does so in the morning, afternoons, dusk. Nighttime it is quiet, as if they’ve all forgotten how listening to their own noises is like. The silence falls, not eerily or saddening, but as if a blanket of peace, momentary relief, when one can leave their house without the cold droplets hitting their clothes, going straight to skin.

She waits until the sun sets over the mountains and crickets start creaking in gardens, to leave her office, nod at her secretary, and leave for a break. The building continues to work without her, her orders now as engraved as the droplets in their windows.

The road is slick with rain when she steps on the gas, dark clouds making her turn on the overhead lights to find her phone. Perhaps, looking back, she notices that as the first change to her routine. A silly one, sure, but the first change of many.

But then, she is only thinking of the car that slides out of its lane and the wide eyes of the man behind the wheel, before the impact smashes her unconscious.

  
  
  


The smell of hospitals is the most discernible mixture of misery and bleach.

She awakens in a burst of sensations- the scratchy cotton, the strings of hair in her face, the warm feeling in her left hand. Without thinking, she opens her eyes and raises her hand- a shot of dulled pain hits the back of her neck, like an ice-cold needle, and she lets out a strangled noise.

“Don’t move,” someone says. “You’re going to be alright.”

She doubts it, but the voice is firm and warm, so she lets herself drift again.

  
  
  


 

There’s a difference in lights. Before they were bright and confusing white, but now they’re a soft yellow, as if the sun is rising. It will soon fade, she reasons, for the clouds will come back. But she imagines waking up to a sunny afternoon, while her eyes still refuse to open.

A door opens and she hears footsteps. They’re not officious like her colleagues’ at work, nor leisurely as her siblings’. They’re soft- as if afraid of waking her up.

Not used to it, she struggles to open her eyes. It’s hard, but she’s stubborn. It’s worth it, though- the light shines behind someone, the view outside pretty as the grass and buildings shine with morning dew. She blinks a few times until her vision settles- and she sees the person who entered.

The sun rose and shone down without a care for her, for a halo of light frames the one person she never thought she’d see again. She thinks it’s a joke, an effect of medication, perhaps, until the person says,

“Hi, Carm.”

“Laura?”

She struggles to say it- Laura smiles at her, shyly, moving to pick up a cup at her bedside. She’s dressed in simple scrubs, a nurse’s outfit, a badge swinging a little and shows her name.

It’s just a simple “Laura Hollis”.

Carmilla gulps down the water without looking at her old roommate.

“It’s good to see you- though not like this.”

Slow as she is, Carmilla just now realizes the blue cast around her left arm. She lifts it, gingerly, and sighs. “So I didn’t imagine that.”

Laura laughs. Carmilla feels her throat tighten. “Do you often imagine getting in accidents, Carm?”

“I thought you went to Seattle,” she rasps. Meeting Laura’s eyes is a bit too much, so she’s staring at her cast as if it held the answer. “To live out Grey’s Anatomy. Even though they all die.”

A quick pause comes. It used to mean hesitance or sadness, but it’s been  _ years _ .

“I didn’t want to die, so I moved back. By car. No plane crashing.”

“Wouldn’t want you to lose a leg.” Carmilla clears her throat and looks at Laura. “So- am I going to live, doctor?”

Laura shakes her head and smiles again- a glorious sight she’d forgotten. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“Still teasing me, I see. Even when I’m on a hospital bed. Merciless.”

“You’ll get discharged soon enough.” Laura rolls her eyes. “And I can - uh - make fun of you then?”

She’s earnest and kind, as she’d always been, as Carmilla never quite forgot. “You wanna hang out with me, Hollis? Only if you pay for the burger.”

She should have a little more self-preservation, really, but the grin she gets out of it is worth the eventual pain.

  
  
  


 

Carmilla recalls the prep for Laura’s last pre-med exam. Lots of papers with sixteen-letters medical terms and dozens of markers. Laura with frazzled hair and smudged makeup, five cups of cocoa in various stages of full, all growing cold.

She’s different- just enough to surprise. Her hair is shorter, wavy, and looks blonder. Her freckles, rare then, have all but disappeared. She’s gone back to Krav Maga, she can see, since her arms are toned and visible under her navy sweater. Her eyes, though, never change, even behind the glasses she’s wearing now.

“Didn’t think Franklin’s was still open,” Laura says by way of hello. She drops her bag next to her, opposite Carmilla. “Hadn’t had time to check yet.”

“You’ve been here long?” Carmilla asks, choosing her words.

“Two weeks? It was a split second decision, really.”

“Frosh!”

A quick, familiar voice sounds out behind the counter. LaFontaine, in their kaleidoscope sweater, saunters up and pulls Laura into a hug. “You’re back!”

“LaF!”

They swing to side to side with wide smiles. LaF and Laura had parted ways without half as much angst as Carmilla had; the science major had decided to forgo their grad in favor of taking their parents’ bakery/café up.

“Hey, Carmilla,” LaFontaine says easily once they part. “Haven’t seen you around.”

“The office keeps me busy,” she shrugs, actually a bit saddened. They’d grown closer after- after Laura’s  _ departure _ . “Hiring Kirsch helped, but I feel bad leaving him alone with all the paperwork.”

“You shouldn’t, especially if there are numbers.”

Laura sits back down, LaF taking it as a cue to take their orders. Carmilla asks for the usual, while Laura looks confused at the new menu. LaFontaine winks, then, and tells her they’ll make the best burger they can.

Behind them, a head pops up. “Hello, Miss Karnstein.”

Carmilla rolls her eyes. “We’re not at work, Armitage. Drop it.”

JP shakes his head vehemently. “I cannot.”

LaF reaches over to pat him on the cheek. “Little robot friend, have you ordered yet?”

They move away from the table, JP explaining something about ham very earnestly.

“He works for you?”

Carmilla looks back at Laura- it’s like a jolt any time she remembers that  _ God she really is back _ . “Jeep? Yeah, he’s my CIO. He manages the info that goes out into the market. He’s not terrible.”

“That’s Karnstein speak for ‘we’re friends’.”

“I don’t-” Carmilla stops, glances at Laura’s face. “Have friends. Other than, well, LaF.”

“What happened to-”

Carmilla gives her a sad look. “Elle? We don’t talk anymore.”

Laura hesitates, again, before reaching out to touch her hand. It hurts, more than she expected, the odd pacing of their interactions. They used to work so well.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Carmilla shrugs. “Elle was a brewing storm.”

_ You weren’t _ , she thinks.  _ You were sunshine _ .

Her hand stays, and it feels like enough.

  
  
  


 

The question she hasn’t asked plagues her the whole following week. Her arm itches, her head hurts, and the rain continues to slam the windows, stronger and stronger as the days pass. She hasn’t asked, and she probably won’t, while they text; nor does she ask, when Laura calls her on Wednesday.

“The Lustig is a  _ bar _ ?”

She sounds revolted. “Yes?”

“Owned by  _ Will _ ?”

“Yes.”

“What? When did that happen?”

“Three years ago.”

There’s bumbling on the other side of the line. “I’ve been invited to happy hour there, apparently.”

Carmilla sits up. “Oh. Um- cool?”

“What’s with the worry?”

“Worry? I’m not worried.”

“Stop lying. What’s wrong with The Lustig?”

“Just that- well- William isn’t your biggest fan.”

Silence. She regrets saying it immediately. It feels like a low blow- but her leaving had ruined Carmilla for so long that neither of her siblings have truly gotten over it, and the warning feels like it’s needed.

“Do you wanna hang out then?”

Carmilla’s eyes widen. “Sure? I’m free in an hour.”

“Cool! I can pick you up. Still the same building, right? That weird, Avengers Tower-looking place?”

A honest to God smile is her answer to that. “Yeah, cupcake.”

The nickname slips, like it used to, and an intake of breath comes as a response. “Neat. Cool. See you soon!”

Her head spins.

Maybe she’s being too nice? Too forgiving? LaFontaine had forgiven her instantly, but they- they hadn’t  _ fought _ . The words Laura and Carmilla had exchanged those seven years ago still haunt her, ghouls that bring crippling guilt and leftover hurt. They’d said things that couldn’t be taken back.

And yet- Laura is here.

In Silas.

Without Danny.

She keeps thinking about it, mulling it over: they had been dating for four years when they both went to Seattle- Danny was even going to  _ propose _ . What’s changed? What happened?

When she slides into Laura’s beat-up car, she says nothing of it. Instead, she says, “I’m dying for a burger.”

Laura has on her uniform still; she looks professional, but at the same time like a girl playing around with costumes. But, if there’s one thing Carmilla knows, is that Laura is excellent at what she loves.

At the lack of movement from the car, Carmilla looks at Laura. She’s got a soft look on her face, one she’s never seen before- only- only once.

“What?” Carmilla asks.

“You’re smiling.” She says, in wonder. Then she  _ blushes _ and drives.

There’s no ring on Laura’s finger, she notices. The one on her neck is her mother’s, still, and it shines under the streetlights. She thinks of mentioning how many times she’s seen her father these years, and how he’s always looked at her the same way he did then- like she’s his kid too, like he accepts her. How she sent Joshua Hollis a gift every Christmas and he sent her one too, but they never talk about it.

She thinks of mentioning leaving flowers at her mother’s grave after visiting her own father’s.

Instead, she keeps quiet while Laura talks about her day. She lets her sad thoughts go to the back of her head as Laura keeps and keeps drawing chuckles and smirks out of her.

“Don’t make that face,” Laura says, when she rolls her eyes at a baby story. “You can’t possibly hate children still.”

Carmilla flicks her straw at her. “I hate most of them, yes. They cry and snot and pull hair. I only like Perry’s because he’s quiet.”

Blinking rapidly, Laura whispers, “Perry’s got a  _ kid _ ?”

“Wha- yeah? Mattie and her adopted like years ago.”

“ _ What?” _

She can’t tell if that’s a good  _ what _ or a bad one. “Yeah. They’ve got a son, Stefan. I babysit sometimes, when they want to go out and live again. He’s pretty tame, I’ll give him that.”

Laura sits back, draws in a breath. Carmilla can’t help but reach out and grasp her hand- it’s shaking a little, and she squeezes.

“I missed a lot, didn’t I?”

It’s a sad realization. Laura looks exhausted.

Like she used to, like she can’t seem to stop, Carmilla tries to help. “At least now you’re here. You can visit them.”

“Mattie must hate me.”

“No, sweetheart-”

Laura’s hand slides out of hers to cover her face. “You should all hate me. I  _ left _ . I left everyone and I was horrible to you- how can you even look at me?”

It’s perhaps the most heartbreaking thing in the world, to see Laura cry. She does so quietly, always has; she doesn’t want it to be acknowledged. And Carmilla used to not touch her, used to hold her ground and wait, but now she’s done being careful. She slides to her side of the booth and holds Laura close, painful as it is.

“You came back,” she says, like a prayer. “You came back. Laura, you’re back now.”

“I’m sorry,” she sobs. “Carm-”

“It’s all right. I’m sure Perry will love to see you again.”

Laura moves suddenly to wrap her arms around Carmilla’s waist, her face in her neck. They wait until Laura stops shaking to leave the diner.

  
  
  


 

She missed a lot of things about Laura, too.

Laura now drinks more coffee than cocoa, wears heels, and listens to blues. She drinks tequila with a straight face, puts on red lipstick, and wins at pool. But while those things shake her up a bit, some others haven’t changed at all.

Laura still wears owl socks and sweaters, still forgets her coat behind, answers her phone without looking at the ID. Tells everyone about a show’s problematic episode, still dances to terrible Top 40 music, still stops in the middle of the street to coo at dogs.

Laura still hugs Carmilla like it’s the last time. She still holds her hand absentmindedly and tells stories to others, as if it hasn’t been seven years since she last did so.

“Don’t you think you’re letting her back in too easily?” LaF asks her, in a rare evening with all of them at Franklin’s. It’s supposedly closed, but the group of friends still mills around.

“Probably.”

“That’s not very healthy.”

“I missed her, LaF.”

“So did we all.”

Carmilla waits until her voice can’t be overheard. “It’s not the same,” LaFontaine’s brow is furrowed. They watch Laura make the rounds- she holds Stefan under Mattie’s distrustful eye, with Perry’s high-pitched advice in the background. “You weren’t in love with her.”

LaF sighs. Takes a sip of their drink. “Yeah.”

“She didn’t owe me to stay. Or to come back.”

“But she owes you an apology.”

“Which she has given.”

“So that’s it?”

Carmilla frowns at them. “What?”

“Are you going back to that?”

“I never stopped.”

“You can change.”

A hum of a laugh comes out of her. “It’s a fact of life, LaF. I’ve tried to change it, such as you’ve tried to fool gravity. I love her.”

Stefan slips out of Perry’s grip and sprints towards them. He pulls at Carmilla’s hands until she lets him up on her lap.

“Hey, kid,” she says. “Running from Mom again?”

“I saw you and LaF here and I wanted to say hi,” he says, grabbing LaFontaine’s free hand. Carmilla moves to steady him. “And Maman wanted to talk to Miss Laura.”

Carmilla looks up- Mattie and Laura are in a strangely subdued conversation by a window. Perry has shifted to talk to Jeep, but keeps sending them looks of worry.

“We’re way more fun.” LaF says conspiratorily. He giggles.

“Is Miss Laura that girl you talk about sometimes, Aunt Carm?”

She avoids LaFontaine’s knowing look. “Yes. That’s the one.”

Stefan nods, satisfied. “Now she’s here again and she can play with us.”

“Yeah.”

At the end of the night, she helps buckle Stefan up in his kid seat. He’s fast asleep, but hangs onto Carmilla’s shirt sleeve until she has to leave. LaFontaine and Jeep close up, with Carmilla and Laura watching Mattie’s SUV drive away.

“You really are good with him.” Laura whispers.

“He’s alright,” she smirks. “More fun than either of his mothers.”

“He likes you a lot.”

“Of course. I’m delightful.”

Laura drives her home, since Carmilla still can’t drive. She’s got just a couple more weeks with the demon cast, though it seems longer than that. But it’s a cool reminder that she survived a head-on SUV to her face.

She’s surprised as Laura gets out of her car as soon as she parks, going around to open Carmilla’s door. They walk up to her door together in companionable silence, Carmilla waiting until she gets her key to speak again.

“I want to apologize for something.”

Laura opens her mouth to argue something- she stops her with a fond look. Instead, the girl says, “For what?”

She swallows down a good amount of pride. “For what I said before you left. I was wrong and it was uncalled for. I know- I know you apologized for your half of it- but I wasn’t in the right.”

A quick inhale follows Carmilla’s words; she isn’t sure if Laura is going to either laugh or cry. She just shakes her head. “You were right.”

“Laura-”

“You were, Carm,” she insists. Her hand grasps at her free one, over the cold keys. Laura’s skin is warm, though, warm like the summer sun. “I wasn’t doing what I wanted. I did- I did move because Danny wanted me to.”

“Even then- I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I think we both said things we shouldn’t.”

Silence befalls them once again. She’s tired of them. “I’m still sorry, Laura.”

She smiles sadly at her words. Forgoing words, she stands up a little and moves closer - Carmilla closes her eyes on instinct - and kisses her cheek. “I’m sorry, too. More than I can say. Goodnight, Carm.”

She waits until she can see Laura’s eyes again. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

  
  
  


 

Spring falls over Silas.

It used to be her least favorite season. The grass started to peek out of snow, flowers bloomed. She couldn’t relate to this sudden life sprouting about from nothing- but she can’t say that anymore.

Not when she gets to see Laura after her shift, smelling like a fresh shower and weird hospital soap. Not when, instead of going to her own house, Laura goes to Carmilla’s, curling up on a red chair with Carmilla’s unread newspaper. Not when she smiles at Carmilla when she makes her coffee, and holds her hand and draws little circles on them.

She’s personally had a terrible day. Shipments got lost somewhere in Maine, Marketing lost an important file as an accident brought down their internet receivers, and HR discovered a problem with some upper-echelon members.

But Laura, who sees all kinds of horrible things all day, loses people and gains them, wakes up at the crack of dawn to help people whose names she’ll soon forget, sits beside her on the couch, trying to explain a show to her with funny anecdotes.

“I missed you.”

She says it quietly, reverently.

Laura gives her a breathless smile and says, “I missed you, too.” And, without asking like she keeps doing, just climbs onto Carmilla’s lap, hand on her collarbone and nose up to her throat.

“Your face is cold.” She grumbles.

“Shut up.” Laura laughs. There’s something edgy about it, though, like she’s about to cry.

Carmilla pulls back to look at her. “You alright?”

“You never asked what happened with Danny.”

Taken aback, Carmilla says, “What?”

“You never asked.”

“Um- well. What happened?”

“She proposed, and I said no.”

“But- why?”

“I didn’t want to spend my life with her. It’s not her fault, really. I just didn’t love her anymore.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

There’s a wild undercurrent to Laura’s words. She searches Carmilla’s eyes for something. “Are you?”

No. She isn’t. Instead, she says, “You were happy with her.”

“You didn’t like Danny at all, though. Why?”

Confused, she asks, “What is this about, Laura? I don’t understand.”

“You know why I came back?”

“No- you never said.”

Laura looks about the room- her eyes catch on something. It’s an old, glass elephant- a gift Laura’d gotten her about ten years prior. They were freshmen in college, just now becoming friends; LaF had heard about a cool trinket place just off campus, making them all trudge in the snow for it. She’d been enamored with the intricate glasswork, but made no move to buy it- Laura kept the memory and bought it for Christmas.

“I was at work,” she starts. “Looking through some news apps. Old habits, you know? And I saw an article about Morgan Industries’ charity work- and you were on the cover. You looked just like you did before, all in black and sunglasses with a frown on your face. And the article said ‘CEO Carmilla Karnstein has doubled Morgan’s income since she’s come in, just under two years ago’ and I thought-  _ wow, she really made it _ .”

“Laura…”

She can’t believe her ears. It’s like every fantasy, every farfetched daydream, is coming to reality. Laura is solid and warm in her arms, hands grasping Carmilla’s sweater, earnest eyes pleading at her.

“I came back because of you. Because I knew why I couldn’t say yes to Danny. Because, all this time, I’ve really only been in love with  _ you _ .”

It all bursts inside of her- she kisses Laura.

She’s soft, impossibly so. Her lips are warm, slightly chapped; she trembles a little, like she can’t process it’s happening either. But she moves against her, hands on Carmilla’s cheeks- she swipes at something, and Carmilla realizes she’s  _ crying. _

“Stop crying,” Laura whispers against her lips; she smiles as Carmilla steals a brief kiss. “You know I’ll cry too.”

She rolls her eyes, sniffles a little. “Don’t ever tell anyone I cried.”

  
  


 

After hours of soft, lazy kissing, Laura settles against her chest. The sun is just rising over the distant hills, shining onto Laura. Her hair looks like flowing, dripping gold, splayed across Carmilla’s black sweater.

She inhales deeply.

“Falling in love with you was so natural, so right. I’m convinced it’s a part of my very existence, it’s imbued in my spirit, like it was written in my blood when I was born and it would just be- be most definitely, most undoubtedly. I don’t know if that’s the scariest or the most soothing feeling in my life- but there it is. And I don’t know if you believe in destiny - because I don’t - but how else can I define this absolute fact of my existence that is loving you?”

She says this all in pauses, quietly, looking down at her softly rising chest. Instead of silence, she is answered by:

“Are you always this romantic and sappy or is it just when I’m sleeping?”

Carmilla actually laughs. “Get used to it.”

**Author's Note:**

> the prompt was the final speech y'all  
> hope you liked it???  
> there's a spotify playlist for this if you want it, just hit me up on tumblr or smth (same user)


End file.
